


Bloom for me

by What_They_Call_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Hermione is trying her best, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Ron is not oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_They_Call_Me/pseuds/What_They_Call_Me
Summary: Hermione said nothing, just huffed slightly, she stormed into the classroom taking her seat in the front leaving Harry to trail behind. Harry knew that Hermione was only trying to help him, but he couldn’t deal with it.Harry had lived his whole life as the Boy Who Lived, his whole life being special by circumstance of his parents death. He just wanted to be normal, to go to class and to keep his head down. No one ever seemed to understand that, Ron wanted Harry to use his fame for everything, and Hermione lived for mystery and adventure. But Harry just wished it would all end.----Harry has one wish for his seventh year, he just wants for it to be normal, but of course he doesn't get what he wants. Because wherever Harry goes flowers sprout in his wake. It doesn't really become a problem until he starts coughing up these flowers.Why can't he have one normal year?





	Bloom for me

_ Once Upon a Time, there was a beautiful Prince. He was loved by his entire kingdom. The Prince was beautiful and smart and would one day become a wonderful leader. But he could not find a bride. Everyone loved their Prince, people came to him hoping to share their love with him, but the Prince remained unmarried.  _

_ One day a witch came to the kingdom, and she cursed the Prince. From that day on flowers bloomed from the Prince’s feet, from his body and his soul. And before the witch could be punished she was spirited away, going into hiding.  _

_ At first this disease did not seem terrible, wherever the Prince walked flowers would spring up in his wake. It was something beautiful at first. Until the flowers began to bloom in his lungs and in his blood.  _

_ One night the Prince lay in his bed, he coughed up large flowers covered in blood. His most loyal knight sat vigil by the Prince’s bedside. When the Knight saw the bloody flowers he embarked on a quest to kill the witch and to save his Prince. _

_ The Knight was gone three days and three nights before he found the witch. He slayed her without a thought, and raced to return to his kingdom. When he arrived home he was shocked to see the kingdom in mourning.  _

_ The Prince had died the first day apart from the Knight.  _

_ The Knight ran to Prince’s room. The Prince lay on his bed, his mouth agape and red flowers spilling from them. His body was already being claimed by the vines and nature. When the Knight saw that he had failed his Prince he immediately took his own sword and slew himself, for failing the kingdom and failing the Prince. _

\-------

Harry Potter was the boy who lived, he didn’t understand why he had to have an eighth year at Hogwarts. One would think that saving the Wizarding World from certain destruction would warrant an early graduation. But here he was his first day back in classes, with the first years gawking at him again.

“I’m skipping the Welcoming Feast.” Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione. Neither of them argued, a lot of the students were skipping the feast this year, too many terrible memories from the Battle of Hogwarts.

The stone hallways of Hogwarts were far more comforting than Harry would have thought, he didn’t realise how much he missed the school until he was here. 

Harry didn’t consciously think about where he was going, he just let his body take him. He found himself walking to a tall secluded turret on the side of the castle. He didn’t know why his feet had taken him here, never before had Harry come to this corner of the castle. But he stood at the top of the steps looking at the wooden door leading to a small dark room with a flutter in his heart.

Harry reached out to the door. Why was he so nervous to open this goddamn door?

The door creaked open under his touch to reveal Draco Malfoy. Draco stood up as if being caught doing something terrible. 

“Potter.” Draco didn’t sneer, his tone wasn’t haughty. He just sounded tired. “Is there no place in this castle that I can get some privacy?”

Harry entered the room. Draco watched him cautiously, but Harry just sat down on the cold stone floor, his back against the wall. He didn’t look at Draco, instead played absentmindedly with his robe.

Draco watched apprehensively, but then slowly sat down as well. He sat as far as he could from Harry in the small circular room. 

“This year is going to be shit isn’t it?” Harry finally asked.

“Not for you, you were on the winning side of the war.” Draco spat back.

And that wasn’t fair. Draco had fought for them too, when his parents both went to trial Draco had testified against them. He had betrayed the Death Eaters, he had joined their side. But even Harry noticed how people looked at Draco’s arm, where the mark stayed hidden under a shirt, and they all thought he joined their side too late.

Harry opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. 

They were both just kids thrust into a war by their parents. 

Draco and Harry stayed sitting in the room for an hour. The entire time neither of them spoke. Eventually Draco stood up, storming out of the room. Harry just stared blankly at the spot that Draco had just abandoned. 

It took an hour more for Harry to finally stand up he dusted off his cloak and then looked down at where he had been sitting. He hadn’t even noticed the white rose petals when he had sat down, but there they were. Harry leaned down and took one petal between his fingers. It was so pale and delicate, he touched it to his cheek.

Then he let the petal drop back onto the pile before going back down the stairs and climbing into his bed.

\----

_ Once Upon a Time, there was two rival families. They each had a child of eighteen years a young beautiful boy with hair darker than the night and a girl with the face of the moon. The two children were never allowed to meet, because of their familial despise. _

_ What the families didn’t know was that from the boy’s window sometimes he could see the top of the girl’s shinning pale hair. Sometimes he could catch the slightest glimpses of her. And soon flowers began to bloom. _

_ Every time he saw her, flowers sprouted from beneath his feet. It didn’t take long for the boy to realise he had fallen in love.  _

_ At night he would sneak out and leave a flower outside her window, a reminder to himself of the love that is coming from inside of him. But the flowers didn’t just sprout from where he stood. They began to grow in his veins and his his lungs until he choked on petals. _

_ The boy died never telling his love the truth. Surrounded by the flowering love that consumed him. _

\------

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were making their way back from Hagrid’s hut. Ron was rolling his wand between his two hands while he and Hermione spoke. Harry trailed behind the two letting them talk. Since coming back to Hogwarts it went from  _ Harry, Ron and Hermione _ to  _ Harry and RonandHermione _ . And even though Harry was happy for his friends, he really was, it was strange sometimes.

“Is that Malfoy?” Harry asked allowed pointing to a pale figure sitting near the lake. “It’s bloody freezing, what’s he doing out here?”

Ron quirked his head at Harry’s comment, and Hermione just smiled a little. Harry didn’t like the way the two were looking at him, so he shivered exaggeratedly to illustrate his point. Ron just shrugged while Hermione kept smiling.

But really, what was Malfoy thinking, he shouldn’t be sitting next to the lake, he could catch a cold.

Ron went back to tossing his wand from one hand to the other, immediately dropping it to the ground. Harry and Hermione kept walking. Harry was focusing on Draco’s hunched form.

“Blimey.” Ron said leaning down at the ground beneath Harry’s feet, “Everywhere you step is a bunch of flowers.”

Harry turned around, ans sure enough behind them was a trail of slowers, each sprouting in the shape of Harry’s footsteps. But they had only started a couple yards back, it didn’t extend all the way to Hagrid’s hut. It was a trail of bright white daisies , popping up in pretty patches. Hermione tilted her head to the side looking at trail.

“It must be a coincidence.” Harry shrugged his voice unsure.

“Harry, step over here.” Hermione instructed pointing to a grassy patch with no visible flowers. Harry rolled his eyes but did as instructed. As soon as his foot touched the area small daisies burst from the ground. 

Ron’s eyes widened into saucers and Hermione said nothing, just stared at the new daisies.

“Were you hexed?” Ron asked.

“He couldn’t have been. We were with him when the flowers started. We would’ve noticed a hex.” Hermione countered.

Harry took another step forward, this time the flowers did not spring up in his wake.

“Guys look, it’s fine.” Harry took another exaggerated step forward to illustrate his point. Ron sighed with relief, but Hermione didn’t look so sure. 

“Come on, I’ve got a Transfiguration essay to write.” Harry started off towards the Castle. As he walked he noticed the lake, where Draco still sat, looking out over the cool still waters. 

The trio didn’t notice that in Harry’s wake there was a trail of flowers again.

For the following week Hermione spent a considerable amount of time watching Harry, and Harry continued to bloom. In the Great Hall a patch of lilacs sprouted beneath his feet. And on the Quidditch pitch, where Harry was forced to watch now, he caused a line of dame’s rocket to sprout up.

“I think it is getting worse.” Hermione stated at she and Harry walked into Potions class. 

“‘Mione, it’s probably just a stupid hex that took some time to kick in.” 

“But Harry, -” Hermione started, her voice taking that tone of superiority, the one she knew he hated. 

“But nothing. This year we promised each other, no fighting of evil, no mysteries. I want one normal year at Hogwarts. Please.”

Hermione said nothing, just huffed slightly, she stormed into the classroom taking her seat in the front leaving Harry to trail behind. Harry knew that Hermione was only trying to help him, but he couldn’t deal with it.

Harry had lived his whole life as the Boy Who Lived, his whole life being special by circumstance of his parents death. He just wanted to be normal, to go to class and to keep his head down. No one ever seemed to understand that, Ron wanted Harry to use his fame for everything, and Hermione lived for mystery and adventure. But Harry just wished it would all end.

As Harry entered his potions classroom he noticed that most of the seats were taken, Hermione had taken a seat next to the wall, Ron next to her, but it was only a two person row. Ron shrugged at Harry. 

Harry only had two choices, he could sit next to one of the seventh year Gryffindor students, one of the ones who fawned over Harry, or next to Draco. It wasn’t really a question.

Harry slid into the seat next to Draco, who was ingrossed in reading he didn’t look until Harry was in his seat and pulling out parchment and a quill. Draco looked at Harry, his sharp face illuminated by the candle light. Harry paused, his quill still in his hand and not yet on the table.

He was waiting, Harry realised, but he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Was he waiting for Draco to snipe at him, force him to move? Was he waiting for something else?

But Draco just sighed and went back to reading his book. Harry let out a breath and finished putting his material on his desk. His quill fell to the ground and when Harry leaned down to pick it up Harry was shocked to see a bushel of yellow acacia flowers blooming from beneath his chair. Harry stared at it confused and annoyed.

“Potter,” Draco hissed, “What are you doing down there?”

Harry flushed red and sat bolt up straight. Draco was looking at him strangely, one eyebrow quirked upward. 

Maybe Draco would have said something if Slughorn decided that minute to come breeze into the classroom, five minutes passed the time class should have started. He smiled and announced that potion partners were decided based on proximity. That meant Draco was Harry’s partner.

Harry expected a groan of annoyance from Draco, or even from himself, but Draco said nothing just started read the list of ingredients for the current task.

Harry’s head was reeling, because when did he not mind being partnered with Malfoy. Malfoy of all people? Harry should be repulsed by the fact that Draco was his partner, not having a warm glowing feeling in his chest due to it.

“You could help me.” Draco sniped, breaking Harry out of his internal panic.

“Didn’t want to mess this up.” Harry replied not focusing on his words, “We both know you are the potions master.”

“Are you trying to appeal to my ego in hopes of me doing all the work for you? That might work with Granger, but you won’t be able to do that with me.”

“I don’t do that-” Harry started indignantly. 

“Save it,” Draco said, literally holding his hand up to tell Harry to ‘shut up’ “Just write down each of the ingredients I will research their use.”

When the hour was done Draco shot out of his seat, fleeing the room quickly. Harry stayed where he was, his chest felt heavy, like their was a weight being pressed into it. Ron and Hermione walked up to where Harry was still sitting. 

“Bloody Hell!” Exclaimed Ron, he pointed to the literal bush beginning to grow under Harry’s feet.

“He wants a normal year at Hogwarts.” Hermione huffed pointedly not looking at the growing number of flowers, “So leave it Ronald.”

And with that Hermione stormed off leaving Ron and Harry in the potions classroom.

“What was that about?” Ron asked.

Harry just shook his head. He would apologize later, right now he just wanted to lay down for a little while.

\-----

_ Once Upon a Time, there was a poor young woman who lived deep within the forest. She lived a simple happy life; planting her own food and tending to her cat. Many thought she was a witch, because she was attuned to nature so, but she was just a young woman, nothing more. _

_ One day, while the young woman was tending to the garden she found a beautiful woman running for her life. This woman was being followed by two men and many dogs. Without a thought the young woman of the forest called out, telling the other to hid inside her little cottage. _

_ The runaway smiled and hid within the forest dweller’s home. When the men came upon the forest woman’s home she exclaimed that she had see no runaway. And the men believed her. _

_ When the woman returned to her home, she discovered that the runaway woman was truly a runaway bride. Fleeing from an arranged marriage. So the woman of the forset took pity on the other and offered her a place to stay in exchange for help tending to her garden. _

_ However, the longer that the runaway woman stayed the more the forest woman began to feel sick. Flowers began to trail behind her wherever she walked. And being a lover of nature she knew the meaning of each one. She was falling in love with the runaway.  _

_ But the runaway had already fled a love she did not want once, and so the forest woman knew she would not be able to tell the other of her love. The woman of the forest died through her love. She had grown a garden in her chest and was laid to rest in the very garden for which she tended. All because of a love that was not returned. _

\---------

People were beginning to notice Harry’s problem with flowers. Some people picked the flowers that trailed behind Harry, they would give it to Harry giggling. Harry tried his best to ignore it, it wasn’t like he had never been laughed at before. But he would get hot in the face when the flowers were brought up.

The worst was that feeling of heaviness in his chest was growing worse. It was late at night, Harry was in the library trying to work on a transfiguration essay when Harry caught a glimpse of Draco walking between the stacks of books.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, his chest tightened, and then it seized. Harry fell into a terrible coughing fit, his entire body shook.

And suddenly Draco was on him, his thin nimble fingers spread wide on Harry’s back. Draco slapped between Harry’s shoulder twice and Harry coughed into his hand, something solid. Quickly Harry closed his first around the object so that Draco couldn’t see it.

Harry straightened and Draco backed away from him as if Harry were made of fire, but Harry could feel where Draco’s hand had touched. 

“What the hell Potter?” Draco asked, he actually looked angry. Harry was internally preparing a retort for being allowed to cough in the library, and how  _ sooo sorry _ he was to disturb the quiet. But Draco continued, “When was the last time you drank water?”

Harry honestly didn’t know the answer to that, he had been avoiding meals in the Great Hall as much as he could, because the flowers seemed to always act up when he was there. 

Draco clicked his tongue before leaving. Harry just sat motionless, gripping the foreign object that had been lodged in his chest. He didn’t want to look, because looking made it real, looking made certain that this year was not going to be the calm and normal year Harry had been hoping for.

Draco returned a glass bottle filled with water in his hands. Harry watched dumbly as Draco pushed the bottle into his open hand, and then forced Harry to drink.

“What’s wrong with you Potter?” Draco asked, his usual chide and anger wasn’t present. He just sounded tired, and maybe the slightest bit worried. Harry couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know.” Harry replied he was shaking.

Harry pushed the bottle back into Draco’s hands and got up. He left all of his belongings on the table and ran out of the library. Draco watched his mouth open in wordless wonder.

Harry made it to the bathroom, when he finally dared to uncurl his fist and see what was inside. In his hand was a small and crumpled flower. The pale pink petals were dotted with blood, which was wiped through the inside of Harry’s palm.

Harry ran from the bathroom to where the Gryfindor common room, where Hermione was bound to be studying. He begged Hermione to be his friend again, apologised up and down about he had been so rude. Because if anyone would know what to do it was Hermione.

“Are you going to admit that this is a problem?” Hermione asked, pointing to the trail of calla lilies in Harry’s wake.

Harry simply unfurled his hand again. The offending flower was more crushed, the petal oozing clear liquid. It was broken and bruised but still covered in his blood.

“It’s a big problem.” Harry replied.

\---

_ Once Upon a Time there was a man and a woman on opposing sides of a war. The woman was cloaked in a scarlet red, for it was the color of her people, the color of blood. The man wore the deepest of blues, the color of an inky sky. They met at the border of their shared land and instead of fighting as they should have they stared at each other for a long moment. _

_ Finally the woman in red turned and ran away, her skin melting away into that of a wolfs, and the man in blue watched in fascination. _

_ Again and again they found themselves drawn to that one spot at the border of their lands. In the beginning they didn’t talk, but as time went on they slowly began to enjoy each others company. _

_ Until the day the woman in red noticed the flowers that followed her. Her people all told her she was cursed by the evil witches and wizards, and the woman in red believed them. _

_ She went to her secret meeting space early and crouched in the bushes and trees waiting in anticipation. When the man in inky blue arrived she pounced, killing him with sharp teeth and dangerous claws. The red blood of the wizard stained her skin and her robe. _

_ But the woman in red did not get better despite the wizard’s departure from this world. Instead her health declined rapidly, choking to death of flowers the color of the night sky. _

\-----

Harry just wanted to shrivel up and die. It was a week since he had started coughing up flowers and the professors at the school wouldn’t leave him alone, they were asking and asking what was wrong with him. Some professors inquired it more kindly then others, but it was professor Trelawney that really made him want to hide in a whole.

He was in the Great Hall, which was mostly empty save for McGonagall and the with year students, whom were very few in numbers. Everyone was tactfully ignoring the fact that bushels of cherry blossoms continued to pop up beneath Harry’s feet.

McGonagall was in the middle of telling them how first term exams were to happen when Trelawney floated into the room. She took one look at Harry and then said in an exaggerated tone pointing with one crooked finger, “You will die of the Hanahaki if you don’t confess.”

And then professor Trelawney flitted out of the Great Hall leaving everyone on in her wake to stare at Harry.

As soon as the meeting was over Harry raced from the room, he had no place to go, he just wanted to be alone. So he went to the secluded turret where he had sat with Malfoy the first day. His mind was racing too fast for a single thought to really be focused on. Professor Trelawney’s words rung in his ears.

She said he was going to die, sure she had said it before, but this time it felt real. He felt it in his chest, the building of flowers, he was going to choke on the petals.

Harry flung himself down on the stone floor, glad to finally be alone, away from prying eyes.

Until the door opened, Harry looked up to see Draco looking sheepish. Harry busied himself by staring at his hands so he wouldn’t stare at Malfoy.

Because Malfoy looked disheveled, a strange look on him, Malfoy always looked so put together, but his icy blond hair was sticking up in different places. His white shirt untucked, and his tie loose and crooked. There were dark purpling bruises under his eyes, he looked so tired and slightly… scared.

“Potter.” Draco said, almost cordially.

“Malfoy.” Harry replied back.

“Don’t listen to Professor Trelawney, she’s daft.” Draco said, it sounded rushed and uncertain. Harry looked up from his hand only when Draco decided to sit down next to him.

There was space between them, but only the barest amount. Harry could feel Draco’s body heat through his cloak, and he could smell him. Draco had always smelled like snow, cold and crisp and Draco. Harry almost smiled.

Draco was shocked as if he hadn’t expected to sit down, his eyes widened and he blinked like an owl. Harry wanted to say something, anything really but was unable, because a coughing fit overwhelmed him. His entire body shook like a leaf in a storm. Harry could feel the slimy petal make its way up his throat and then into his hand.

A white carnation dotted in blood came from Harry’s lips and Draco backed away in horror. But Harry was still coughing, another white carnation came up.

Draco’s hands were on his back, just like they had been in the library, and Harry could feel their heat. He continued coughing until he brought up a third and final carnation, with blood spattering on the grey stone floor beneath them. 

Draco looked green, his gaze fixed upon the bloody flowers on the floor.

“I think she might be right on this one.” Harry said leaning back so the his back was against the cool wall. His eyes were shut, so he didn’t have to see the worry on Draco’s face, or the pity.

“No!” Draco’s tone was harsh and biting. It was like they were at war again, enemies again. “You aren’t going to die.”

Harry just started laughing, it was a dark and tired chuckle that sounded so alien to him, “The boy who lived, will die by flowers.”

“Listen here Potter, you’re not dying. Not for a long time.” Draco hissed.

“Why do you care?” 

Draco paused, and Harry cracked his eyes open. Draco looked wrecked, devastated, his pale skin flushed red with anger.

“Because, who else will I constantly prove I am better than?” Draco replied.

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Draco finally stood, he offered a hand to Harry, who took it. 

Draco didn’t drop his hand from Harry’s, their fingers intertwined together. Harry was too tired to do anything but stare at their intertwined hands for a long moment. It seemed as though Draco didn’t even notice their hands, he just dragged Harry forward out of the turret and to the library, where they ran into Hermione.

“Granger.” Draco said, he sounded genuinely happy to see her, “I am researching Harry’s condition.”

It wasn’t a invitation to help, it was an order. One that Hermione expected without protest. She acted like Draco had been their friend all along, like she wasn’t shocked that Draco would want to save Harry’s life.

Harry on the other hand was looking at Draco with wide green eyes. 

Draco pushed Harry into a chair. His hands were all over Harry, on his shoulder s to lead him down, on his chest to keep him seated. Harry could feel them all, a searing brand. And then both Draco and Hermione left in search of books.

Harry’s lungs felt tight again. There was a pressure yearning to break free. The flowers wanted to burst from his chest. 

Harry was coughing when Draco came back books piled high in his hands. Dropping them on the table Draco patted Harry on the back a few times, until the coughing subsided. Then he pushed a water jug into Harry’s hand.

“Drink.” Draco said it as if he were bored, but there was an edge of something that Harry didn’t understand.

Hermione returned moments later another collection of books in her hands.

The three spent the next four hours pouring over books. Each one was about magical diseases, or magical flowers. Nothing proved successful. They read so much that words began to bleed together, and Harry’s head was hurting. 

Every once in a while Draco would look over to tell Harry to drink water, but other than that they read in silence.

Finally they got to the final book on the table it was a thin green book with a cracking spine and fraying leather. On the cover was written in fancy gold lettering the single word ‘Hanahaki.’

“ _ Hanahaki _ , isn’t that what Professor Trewlawney said?” Hermione asked stumbling over the foriegn word.

“Why would you get something that hack recommended?” Draco sneered.

“I didn’t.” Hermione replied looking at the book.

It was Harry that opened the book gingerly. It was ancient, parchment thinning and tearing in places. On the first page was a medieval style paining of a Prince surrounded by flowers. Harry read the first story. It was dark and grisly.

“These are fairytales, for children.” Draco sighed.

“Rather dark for fairytales.” Harry countered.

They next was a story of rival families, the man died. Then about a runaway woman in the woods, a different woman died. People kept dying. It seemed like that was the moral of these stories. He was going to die.

Harry clutched the book to his chest as another coughing spell took over him.

“Thanks guys,” Harry murmured. “But it’s no use.”

Standing up Harry left the library, leaving Draco and Hermione to clean up the books on the table. Harry dragged himself to his room, and it wasn’t until he got to his bed did he realise he was still clutching the book to his chest. So he sat down and read it start to finish. There were many vignettes all ending in a gruesome death. They ranged from medieval times to seemingly the nineteen twenties. 

On the final page there was a short description. Harry read it over and over again. His fingers tracing over the letters over and over again. It couldn’t be. 

_ A disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. _

But Harry wasn’t in love. He had broken up with Ginny and he had no care to go back to her. It didn’t make sense.

Sliding the book beneath his pillow Harry lay down. His head and chest hurt and he hated it.

Harry dreamt he was in a large meadow and Draco was sitting in the center. The emerald grass standing out against his black robes. Draco smiled, it was sweet and innocent, it made Harry’s heart speed up.

Harry sat down next to this dream Draco, he realised that for the first time in weeks his chest didn’t hurt. He felt light and free. 

Draco’s fingers reached out and took Harry’s. Smiling at the feeling Harry looked down, their hands looked like they were meant for one another, and he wished more than anything that he would never have to let go of Draco’s hands.

With a careful hand, Draco reached out to Harry, his fingers feather light against Harry’s cheek. But Harry still leaned into the touch, starved of intimacy as he was. 

“I don’t want you to die.” Draco whispered, his voice so small and scared. He sounded so broken.

And Harry was confused, because he didn’t feel like he was dying. He felt so light. Why would Draco be worried about him dying?

“It’s okay.” Harry replied, his voice just as soft.

And then Draco leaned over to him, kissing his jaw line. Then Draco went lower, kissing down his neck, only stooping at the juncture of Harry’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” Harry gasped out.

And then the dream was painfully ripped away from him, because Harry in his own bed. The pain was back in his chest. And Harry realized one really important thing.

He was in love with Draco.

Harry is in love with Draco.

And Harry’s love for Draco is what’s going to kill him.

And then Harry leaned over the side of his bed and vomited blood and scabious flowers on the stone floor. He could hear Ron groaning and then yelling. He could hear footsteps running. And he could feel someones hands on his shoulders.

Vaguely Harry wondered if this was the moment he would die.

\------

_ Once Upon a Time, there was a rich and noble woman who wore pretty dresses. She fell in love with the kitchen maid. It was a dangerous love, because of their status, because of their gender, and because it is love and love is often dangerous.  _

_ The noble woman did not fall in love immediately, instead she grew to love the kitchen maid. And it wasn’t until an adventure in the woods together did she really understand the kitchen maid’s beauty and intelligence. From then on the noble woman would walk and flowers would follow her.  _

_ Her brother, who knew of his sister’s love told the noblewoman that if she confessed her feelings to the kitchen maid their parents would execute the kitchen maid. _

_ And the noblewoman knew that if she didn’t tell her beloved about her love she would die, but the woman would rather die herself that let anything happen to her love. So she kept her feeling secret, even as she began to cough up bloody flowers. _

_ She died alone in her room, afraid to see the kitchen maid, and unwilling to see her family. _

\------

Harry awoke in the medical bay with Hermione sitting on the edge of his cot. She looked tired, her face pinched with worry.

“Hey.” Harry croaked. 

“Hey” Hermione’s voice was watery. She brushed sweaty hair away from his face.

“What happened?”

“Ron found you vomiting blood and flowers in your room. He rushed you here, you’ve been here for two days. You’ve been in and out of it, you keep throwing up blood. There has been so much blood Harry.” Hermione pitched over so her face was on his chest and she began to sob.

Harry reached out and patted her back twice. In all of his years being friends with Hermione he had only seen her cry five times. Harry’s chest hurt, and for once it wasn’t the flowers, as he thought about leaving Hermione and Ron behind. 

And then the doors to the infirmary slammed open with a bang, Hermione shot up to see Ron physically dragging Draco into the room. Angrily Ron deposited Draco on Harry’s bed. 

Draco, who looked irritated and red in the face, straighted his clothes impetuatly. 

“Ronald, what are you doing?” Hermione asked, she tried to sound angry, but it just came out weak.

“I read your book Harry.” Ron said instead of answering, “And I know this is  _ his _ fault.”

Ron pointed and accusing finger at Draco, who opened his mouth to fight against Ron’s claims. Hermione gasped looking horrified.

“It’s not his fault Ron.” Harry sighed.

Then Ron’s anger was turned to Harry, “You’re bloody right it’s not. It’s yours. And normally I wouldn’t mind you pussyfooting around this, but you are running out of time. So you are going to tell him right now, or I will tell Hermione and she will make you tell him.”

Harry didn’t say anything, because how on earth could Ron have know? Harry hadn’t even had known that he was in love with Draco, but Ron seemed unfazed by it.

“Tell me what?” Draco asked.

And Harry would have done just about anything to not be here in the moment. Ron was staring at him, and Hermione was squeezing his hand so tightly it hurt.

“Ron,” Harry started, unsure how to finish, but Ron seemed to know. He gently lead Hermione out of the infirmary by the elbow, and while Hermione looked like she wanted to fight, she just let her boyfriend take her out.

And now it was just Harry and Draco in a big empty room. Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest, and Draco was staring at him with eyes that Harry couldn’t understand. 

If he doesn’t love me back, Harry thought I’ll die anyway. No reason to be embarrassed.

“Malfoy.” Harry said, then stoped, Malfoy was too formal, this was a love confession, “Draco.” Harry amended.

Draco was staring at him and it made Harry hot, he felt the flush rise to his cheeks under Draco’s stare. 

“I-” Harry was so shit at this, “I- you know how I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” Draco snapped immediately, without thinking. And then after a moment of pausing he all but whispered, “You can’t die.”

And Harry actually smiled, chapped blood stained lips stretching wide.

“I am.” Harry smiled, and Draco’s hands reached out, grabbing at Harry’s hand. It seemed subconscious, but Harry looked at those long nimble fingers. They were so pretty and pale and Harry wanted to worship them, just like he wanted to worship and love every part of Draco.

“And it’s because of you.” Harry finally said.

Draco opened his mouth, tears swimming to his eyes, “If you think I am cursing-”

“No.” Harry interrupted suddenly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you didn’t do this to me, its an ancient spell.”

“What?”

“Have you ever heard the story of the Prince that died because of flowers in his lungs?” Harry asked, his voice was hoarse. Draco shook his head silently, and Harry so Harry continued. “He loved his night so much, so hard that flowers began to grow inside of him. And he never told the one he loved about his love and so he died.”

They were silent for a long second, until Harry broke it with a deep rattling cough, a white petal falling from his mouth into his hand.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Draco asked. 

Harry didn’t know, he was so bad at this. “I’;m trying to say…” Harry trailed off and Draco squeezed his hand, “I’m trying to say that I’m in - I’m in bloody love with you and it is literally killing me.” 

Better to rip off the bandaid.

Draco stared at Harry in horror, and Harry waited for the rejection. If he got rejected he would die, in front of an uncaring Draco. 

Tears were swimming to Draco’s eyes, and he held Harry’s hand tighter. Harry wished Draco would just say it already, just say that he doesn’t feel anything, so that this agony would end.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice came out in a choked sob, “Oh Merlin Harry.” 

And then Draco leaned down and kissed Harry with a fierce passion. It was like Draco’s lips were made of the sun. It was a fast desperate kiss, Draco’s tongue rammed into Harry’s mouth and Harry justed let it all happen. Because he was drunk on Draco.

When Draco finally leaned back it felt like Harry could breath for the first time ever. His chest was looser and his body ached less.

“I’ve loved you since first year.” Draco said after a breathless moment. 

Harry leaned forward capturing Draco’s lips with his own once again. And Draco kissed back with a deadly heat.

\----

_ Once Upon a Time there was a prince that helped save a witch. The witch was extremely grateful and decided to repay the kind prince’s kindness with a spell. And so she weaved her magic and blessed the prince to show his love with flowers. When the Prince found the one that he loved, his other half, flowers would bloom until the love was returned. _

_ And then she left the prince to find his love. _

_ A year later the witch was visited by an enraged knight. The knight claimed that the witch had cursed his prince and she was killing him. The witch was horrified to discover that her spell had backfired so terribly and was going to return to the prince and save him, but the knight ran his sword through her stomach. _

_ But the witches spell lived on. Whenever the prince’s soul found its mate, no matter the body and no matter the time, flowers would grow until the prince’s soul confessed his love.  _

_ It took generations, hundreds of bodies that the prince’s soul went through until finally one of them admitted the love that had spanned centuries and countries.  _

_ And so the boy who lived and the son of the Death Eater lived happily ever after. _

**Author's Note:**

> Flowers Meanings  
White Roses mean new beginnings  
Daisies mean beauty and innocence  
Lilacs mean first feelings of love  
Dames Rocket means rivalry  
Yellow Acacia means concealed love  
Calla Lilies mean magnificent beauty  
White Carnations mean pure love and sweetness  
Scabious mean unfortunate love


End file.
